


Cassadaga

by apostapal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Reaper76bigbang, Reconciliation, spirituality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapal
Summary: Jack Morrison spent years lost in a haze and when he finally tries to pull himself out he goes looking for guidance in the strangest of places. But he never expects to face his past--and Death itself--when a probably-fake medium sends him on a spiritual quest across North America.





	Cassadaga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/gifts).



> Here it is!! My fic for the 2018 [@reaper76bigbang](https://reaper76bigbang.tumblr.com)!!
> 
> I got paired with the amazing [@omaano](https://omaano.tumblr.com), please go check out their art [HERE!](http://omaano.tumblr.com/post/176817771193/death-come-to-take-you-away-for-good-jack) It’s absolutely gorgeous and I love it!
> 
> The opening of this [SONG](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FIRTw609o8) was a major inspiration for me, as well as this [PLAYLIST](https://open.spotify.com/user/unluckyfly/playlist/4fU9MdQ0SyjWVwxKAeY7rt?si=aVRue5zcRQyeEdAVZbzmfw) that I made while I was working on the fic, so I definitely recommend giving them a listen when you get a chance. ;)

The summer heat was enough to burn him from the inside out even after dark. But he still needed a disguise so it went like this; ball cap, scarf, glasses, jacket. Head down, eyes averted. He picked his way across the parking lot to the neon lit building.

**Madam Estelle’s Place. Past, Present, Future. Crystals. Tarot Readings. Palm Readings.**

The closer he got, the less he wanted to go in. It felt silly. Superstitious. He could almost hear Gabriel’s voice when he put his hand on the door handle.

_’You really believe in all that, Jack?’_

Yes? No? He didn’t know.

He just needed to believe in something. Anything. He didn’t have anything left but an ache in his chest and a distant voice in his head.

He stepped inside, dodging through the beads hanging over the doorway, and looked around. The place smelled like incense and dust. He could hardly see, the whole room dimly lit and smoky. The whole place was so littered with eclectic objects it felt almost claustrophobic. The whole place was such a sensory overload he had to strain for a moment before finally spotting the woman sitting at a table in the corner.

“Jack?” she asked.

“James,” he clarified, “we spoke on the phone.”

“Of course, of course.”

She beckoned him closer and he stepped over to the table. She motioned for him to sit and he did, awkwardly balancing on the silk-covered stool waiting for him.

Weird coincidence. That’s all it was. His own fault for not being creative enough to give a fake name far enough off from his own. But the whole thing still made him feel antsy.

Estelle held her hands out, palms up, and Jack hesitantly placed his in them. She was bony but warm, fingers soft on his calloused palms. He stared down at the tabletop in lieu of meeting her gaze. But after a long moment of silence he finally sighed and looked up. Her eyes were hazy, a crystal kind of blue, but there was a strange kind of awareness about them. He had to look back down after a few seconds.

“You’ve lost something, haven’t you?”

He nodded. Unable to say it.

“Are you trying to find it again?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Jack replied.

“Why not? Most things can be found.”

Jack knew he wasn’t meant to give clues. He knew all this could be cold reading. He seemed lost. Like he’d lost something. But he couldn’t leave that one lying.

“He’s dead,” he said, voice shaking more than he would have liked.

Can’t find something that’s not there anymore.

“Oh,” her voice came out soft, soothing. Her fingers gripped faintly at his. “Oh, oh dear. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, Jack was struck with the fact he didn’t know why he was there. He couldn’t find Gabriel again. Gabriel was gone. There was no coming back.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. “You’re misunderstanding, dear.”

Jack looked up at her, confused. Her grip tightened just a hair more. Like she was worried he’d rip away and leave.

“Death is not an end,” she said quietly, “it is just another chapter.”

But death was the end of Gabriel. And death felt like the end of Jack too. This was all he had, ripped away. He was so broken he was sitting in a psychic’s shop, hands in hers, letting her lead him to believe maybe ‘death isn’t the end’.

“I don’t… know why I’m here,” he said, moving to stand. Estelle’s gaze alone managed to stop him. He hovered awkwardly at the table, standing and feeling awkward.

“You can find him,” she said, “we can find him again. Death is sometimes… simply a transformation.”

“I need to go,” Jack said. He dug in his wallet a moment and threw down some bills on the table before turning to the door. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

Estelle sighed, a soft thing, and called after him as he headed out into the humid air. “Call if you need me, Jack.”

Weird coincidence. Somehow, even in the heat with his scarf and jacket, it sent a chill up his spine.

-

Two days later he was back. Somehow.

Maybe it was the nightmares. Maybe he needed some kind of piece of mind, whether or not he really believed it, to help him through this. Mourning was such a strange process.

Estelle shuffled through the tarot cards, eyes down, as he sat at the table and bounced his knee. She drew a few, leaving them face down on the table, and waited till he looked up before going on.

“Temperance,” she said, flipping the first card. “Be careful, be calm. Face what is in front of you with a level head and open mind.”

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly as she flipped over the next card.

“The Hanged Man,” she said, “you know little of what is to come. But it will be change. Upheaval.”

Jack’s eyes lingered on the card art. It looked like a man strung up by his feet. He felt turned over a bit like that.

Estelle’s bony hand hovered over the final card a moment, then she flipped it. The art was a knight, face only a skull under his helmet, riding a white horse and meeting a group of people bowing at his feet. Estelle’s breath caught and she placed her palm over the card warily.

“Death,” she said simply.

Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“You have to welcome this change, whatever it is,” she said slowly. “It will consume you if you let it. It will kill you, take all you are. You have to face it head on or…” She swept her hand over the face of the card. “It will destroy you.”

The nightmares didn’t stop. Why would they?

Jack couldn’t even remember why he’d come there in the first place.

-

He left Florida a few days later. Estelle gave him a card when he left. On one side was The Hanged Man, strung up by his feet. On the other, her name and number. Jack stuck it in his duffle and forgot about it quickly.

West. She sent him west. Through along the gulf, then down toward Mexico first. Why did he always end up somewhere hot? Why couldn’t he go somewhere he didn’t swelter in the heat even at night?

What was he running from?

Vigilante work never did pay much. And Jack didn’t intend to last very long. What did he have left to live for anyway? Change was coming for him. And he was going to let it burn him alive if it wanted to.

It was what he deserved.

He’d heard whispers in the air. A mercenary, hunting seemingly random targets among the old ‘heroes’ of the world. He didn’t worry, not at first. No one knew Jack Morrison was still alive. (Probably because he wasn’t, not really.)

But when the whispers of ‘Reaper’ reached his ears on the hot evening winds of Dorado he wondered. Oh, did he wonder.

The first time he saw him it was across an alleyway. They both turned to look at each other and Jack found his face obscured. His heart leapt to his throat.

A skull of a mask. Cloaked and armored. Death. Come to take him.

He bolted. Shamelessly. Ran until his lungs burned and his muscles ached. Then ran a bit longer. Till he made it back to his dingy hotel and latched all three locks and shoved the cheap dresser up against it. He hadn’t been followed but he knew, somehow, that he’d see Reaper again.

Jack called Madam Estelle the next night. Asked her, voice low and back pressed against the dresser against his door, to tell him what was coming for him. She read crystals. Jack listened to them clinking together softly over the phone. Tried to remember how to breathe.

“You cannot run from it,” she said simply. “I cannot tell you any more. Just know. It is coming for you, Jack.”

“James,” he corrected for what felt like the billionth time.

She laughed softly and said farewell. Jack didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he went looking for trouble. Because where there was trouble he was bound to find what--or who--he was looking for.

The Reaper found him at a bad time. Maybe he was getting too old for beating up gangs and taking grenade blows for kids. Made sense, really. It just didn’t seem fair that it was then, of all times, that he ended up finding who he was actually looking for.

“I would have preferred to stand up and shake your hand,” he quipped, looking up at the cloaked figure in front of him. His side hurt too much to even consider pushing himself to his feet now.

Reaper’s head cocked at an odd angle. He leaned down, lamp light behind him almost haloing his head, and reached for Jack’s mask. Jack slapped his hand away.

“You first,” he barked, “it’s only fair.”

He saw eyes narrow behind the mask. Then, a clawed hand reached up and took hold of that skull visage over his face. If Death was coming for him Jack Morrison at least wanted to know what he really looked like.

“Your funeral,” the Reaper drawled, voice gruff and warped in a way Jack couldn’t imagine. He pulled the mask free and smoke flowed around it, wisping off into the space between them. When he lowered it, there was more smoke covering his face. But as it slowly drifted away something felt… strange.

No.

Jack coiled in on himself, knees tucking up close to his chest, and felt his lungs fighting awkwardly for air.

No, no, no.

Brown eyes, a dark goatee, brown skin, and scars across his cheek. Features he’d traced over a million times. Ones he’d memorized. Lips he’d kissed raw, now quirking in a smile that showed too-sharp teeth.

“What’s wrong, old man?” he asked. Jack realized, without the mask, he sounded almost normal. Like he had before… before. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jack could barely get it out. Just one word. One name.

“Gabriel?”

Reaper jerked back, eyes widening. Like he’d just realized something. Like the pieces of his own puzzle were falling together in time with Jack’s. 

A clawed hand reached out and grabbed at Jack’s mask. He didn’t even fight it this time. Vaguely, he heard it clatter to the ground when Gabriel finally freed it from his face. He reeled back a few steps, eyes widening ever still, and inhaled sharply.

“No.”

Jack remembered The Hanged Man. Flipped upside down, hanging by his feet. He looked at Gabriel and realized that perhaps they felt the same in this moment. And, instantly, Death ran from him. Turned to smoke before his eyes and left down the alley from whence he’d came. Jack couldn’t have chased after him if he’d wanted to.

Death is sometimes… simply a transformation.

He never expected that to mean something so damn literal.

-

The next morning, he was half certain it was just a dream. His ribs were sore, side bloody around the sloppy bandage job he’d done. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the floor next to his hotel bed and went to roll out onto his feet. Ended up just landing on his ass on the carpet, coughing on impact.

“Shitting fuck…”

Jack Morrison, codename Soldier:76. Formerly Strike commander of Overwatch. Currently clearly suffering from a cracked rib. Goddamn. Maybe he really was getting to old for any of this shit. He hadn’t exactly planned past ‘go out and punch some thugs’ and maybe that had been a bad idea. But it wasn’t like he could have predicted that kid would be there. Or that that mercenary would—

Jack froze, poised to bring the whiskey bottle to his lips. Predictions, mercenaries… Gabriel. How had that old crone he met in Florida known? How could she have known? He had to find out.

But first, he had to drink some of this pain down.

He called Estelle as soon as he could see straight, ribs still sore from coughing. She answered after two rings with “Hello Jack” and he gave up on this shit ever making an ounce of sense again. Instead, he upturned the bottle of liquid courage in his fist and coughed again before asking his question.

“What do you know?”

She laughed. “I know many things, Jack. But only what the universe tells me.”

“Bullshit. You knew about this. You knew Gabriel was still alive.”

There was silence on the other end. Jack felt himself getting impatient, blood hot in his chest. He wanted answers, not more questions. But that just wasn’t how talking to Estelle worked, apparently.

“He is?” she asked quietly. Jack grunted an affirmative. “You must have already known that yourself, too.”

“I couldn’t have!” he snapped. “He died! I watched him die in my arms!”

Or… did he? Everything was so fuzzy now. Hazy and out of focus. He hurt all over. He couldn’t even remember how he got back to his shitty motel. Glancing across the room he noticed mud on his boots. When had he walked through mud?

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Listen! I know… you know more than this.” he hissed into the phone, “Tell me where he went.”

Estelle sighed. “I can only tell you what you already know,” she replied.

And, somehow, that worked. And Jack knew, with a twisted jolt of excitement, exactly where to find his ghost. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye when he hung up. Something told him Estelle would be able to have already predicted that.

The weather outside was oppressive, baking the city around him. But he couldn’t think about how hot his jacket was on his shoulders as he made his way down the street. He knew what he had to do and, at this point, it was more laughable than anything. He felt lost. Strung out and corrupted. Like he’d forgotten something vastly important. This was probably because he had.

It was something he’d honestly wanted to forget a few times. But 25 years was a big one. And if he was going go remember any time in his life it might as well be the happiest one possible. Good thing no one else liked baking in the summer sun as much as his husband.

The idea crossed Jack’s mind that perhaps he couldn’t call Gabriel his husband anymore. He certainly didn’t seem exactly the same anymore. But, well, neither was Jack. And he didn’t even know if his judgment was more clouded by the desire for answers or the desire to have him back.

The image of dark brown eyes crossed his mind, just briefly, and Jack knew the answer. He just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

It would have been better if he’d died. Instead of clawing his way out of the rubble with a busted face and burning tears in his eyes. Would have been easier than this mess. Would have made more sense than finding out a Talon member and shadowy figure of death may or may not be his husband. Again, if he could even still call him that…

Jack’s head hurt. He stopped at a bus station, hiding from the heat under an overhang, and sighed. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, gliding down his back and pooling around the waistline of his pants. This was torture. But he’d endure worse feelings if he didn’t at least go and check things out.

\--

Really, he could have avoided this whole thing if he’d been more careful. Less cocky. If he’d just left that damn fool well enough alone he’d never have had to deal with this. But instead, he was faced with much worse than simply another dumb vigilante in his way.

Jack. He couldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. But he’d know him anywhere. He’d know him in the dark, if he had to. So a few scars and wrinkles were nothing at all. It was almost easier that way; he hadn’t expected him to look the same as he had that day. But he needed time to think. Time to process.

So, he’d run.

It wasn’t his proudest moment, really. But he wasn’t exactly in a place to do anything more healthy or less cowardly, he supposed. So he did what he could.

Something always brought him back here. Memories, it seemed, were a bit of a cruelty to deal with. He didn’t want to be here, really. Wasn’t the season; he’d stick out in August with a mask and leather like this. But Dorado was still a comfort. Old memories. Old happy times. Things that felt, for years, so far away until this moment.

Gabriel rubbed his palm over his face and tried to even out his breathing. He’d calmed down some, but not enough. The whole thing put him so off balance. Like he was constantly in a state of slowly falling. He huffed softly and leaned against the wall of the hotel room. The idea he’d been able to rent it at all felt so strange. Like fate. Like it was where he belonged.

This shitty hotel in the middle of a tourist trap. All by himself, trying to make sense of the havoc in his mind. And finding no answers at all. He tried, of course, but in the end he simply sat down on the bed and sighed softly. He wanted to be happy, he did. But he couldn’t know what all this meant. He wasn’t sure if he ever could.

The knock at the door almost jolted him out of his skin. Caused a few panicked whisps to flow off his shoulders as it was. His eyes flicked to the door in concern, then narrowed. Who knew he was here?

“Who is it?”

No answer. Gabriel reached for one of his guns as he slowly rose from the bed.

“Answer,” he hissed.

“It’s me.”

The voice felt like a kick in the chest. Gabriel froze, gun half raised toward the door, and stared. He was hallucinating. That was the only answer. That couldn’t be--

“It’s Jack.”

 

Slowly, Gabriel took a step toward the door. Waited, lump in his throat, for Jack to speak again. When he didn’t, he almost thought it had been a living dream after all. Still, he reached out and grabbed the door knob. When he pushed the door open it caught on the chain lock and hung there, half cracked, while he stared at the empty patch of hallway. Then, quietly, Jack spoke again.

“Are you going to stick a gun in my face if I step over there?”

Gabriel looked at the gun still in his hand. Slowly, he lowered it to his side. “No.”

When Jack stepped into view the sight left Gabriel winded all over again. His Jack. That old mug with gray hair and a crooked nose. He wanted to cry, or scream, or just lay down and die on the spot. Instead, reflexively, he reached out and jerked the door closed again. The slam rang down the nearly empty hallway and Gabriel sank to the floor, free hand over his eyes, as if he could simply block this out.

“Gabe…”

“Don’t call me that!”

A little sigh came from the other side of the door. Gabriel tried to even out his breathing again. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening, it wasn’t happening. And yet…

Gabriel reached up and twisted the knob, letting the door swing back out against the chain. Jack looked for him a moment, brow wrinkled, then looked down and spotted him. Gabriel watched for only that long before rubbing his hand back over his eyes. When he looked again, Jack had crouched in the hallway.

“You don’t want to hurt me and I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. Gabriel nodded slowly, though he still wasn’t sure about the latter part. “So what do we do with that?”

“You’re dead,” Gabriel replied. Jack actually laughed at that—barely a chuckle but something.

“You’re one to talk.”

“You’ve been missing for years.”

“You have too and when you show up next you’re a mercenary for Talon? It’s not a good look, Gabriel.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you want to talk to me?”

Jack stared back at him, uncertain. He seemed to have an answer he didn’t want to use. Instead, he just sighed and gave a small shrug. Gabriel sighed too.

“Do you still love me?” Jack asked. The question threw him. For years now the answer was yes, a million times yes, but now? What did any of this mean? What could he do with these thoughts when he didn’t even know what happened—didn’t even know if he was dreaming. He swallowed thickly and looked down at the gun in his lap, one hand still on it.

“Fuck…”

Jack forced a laugh this time. “Yeah.” Then, “Can I come in?”

Slowly, Gabriel got to his feet. He reached for the chain lock as Jack got up too and paused, thinking. This could be a bad idea—this probably was a bad idea. But he couldn’t stop himself from undoing the chain and pushing the door open. He couldn’t stop himself from the haze of relief until Jack reached out a gloved hand to touch his arm. Then, everything swirled into reality and he dissolved into the air and left Jack in an empty hotel room.

-

Suddenly, he was a child again. Uncomfortable and lost in his own skin.

Suddenly, he’s 18. Fresh into the military and wondering if he’s made a mistake.

Suddenly, he’s 19. And Jack Morrison careens into his life like a bat out of hell and he’s doomed, doomed, doomed.

Suddenly, he’s 21. And he realizes in the dim glow of evening, a beer too many in, that he’s in love with his best friend.

Suddenly, he’s 22. And Jack’s hands rub over his chest, scars and soft spots he hates and all, like he’s perfect and if he weren’t smitten before he is then.

Suddenly, he’s watching Jack get promoted. And praying to a God he’s not sure is even there anymore that he’ll still have the one person he needs in this world.

It keeps flashing by, on and on. His life, in snapshots of the most terrifying and magical times he’s ever known. He wants to make it stop but he also… couldn’t look away if he tried. He felt like a fucking child all over again and again.

If he could die, he would. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like the air coming and going from his heaving chest wasn’t real somehow.

Gabriel sank against the wall, back scraping the brick behind him, and exhaled shakily. Tried to inhale again and just coughed. Everything felt like it was spinning. He felt unsteady. Upheaved. Overturned.

Jack Morrison was dead. Jack Morrison was supposed to be dead. If he wasn’t, what would that mean? He wanted nothing more than to have him back but… who was he? Gabriel knocked his mask off and rubbed a hand over his face. Tried to keep breathing. If Jack Morrison was alive, what did it mean?

‘He left me.’

The thought reared with an ugly sting in his chest. Gabriel tried to push it down but more bubbled up with it.

‘What if he betrayed me?’

He wanted to dissolve into thin air. But another thought kept him down. Solidified him. Made his whole body tense and his panic still.

‘I need answers.’

Jack Morrison was supposed to be dead. But he wasn’t. They had that in common, like so much else. Funny how that remained the same no matter what. But if he was something he wasn’t supposed to be… perhaps he’d also know something he wasn’t supposed to. And Gabriel… he’d have to know it too.

\--

A week later in Texas, halfway through a bottle of bourbon, Gabriel found him. And for some reason, maybe just the haze of liquor, he didn’t give it a second thought when a thick smoke rolled under his door and into the shape of a masked specter. He didn’t even get up, just turned the bottle up again and waited until Gabriel had properly collected himself. When he finally had, he stood there facing Jack but frustratingly expressionless behind his mask.

“You wear that thing all the time?”

Gabriel scoffed and reached to pull it off. When he did, it dissolved into the air in wisps of black smoke. Fancy, Jack had to shove his in his pack when he took it off.

“You have two minutes to explain to me why, exactly, I should trust you.”

Jack blinked and slowly sat up, depositing his bottle on the nightstand next to his bed. “What reason do you have to distrust me, Gabe?” he asked.

Gabriel’s face wavered through an odd variety of expressions. All at once he was confused, irritated, and wounded. His brow furrowed as he seemed to decide on irritated. Jack slowly slid to the end of the bed, closer to him, and put his feet on the floor.

“You have to ask?”

Jack felt the irritation rubbing off on him. “Obviously.”

That got his hackles up. But, unexpectedly, Gabriel’s expression faltered toward wounded for a moment before he was glaring at him again. “You left me,” Gabriel spat at him, and he deserved it. “You fucking left me, you son of a bitch!”

Nothing from that day was easy to recall. None of it made sense. But Jack knew, at the end of the day, they both only had half-truths. All he had was a distant, wobbly memory. But he would never--he knew he wouldn’t… He knew he wouldn’t, but Gabriel didn’t.

He reached out, hand shaking, and offered Gabriel his palm. Glove off, the thick scarring from burns was visible on his flesh. Gabriel stared at them, eyes narrowed, and slowly raised his eyes to meet Jack’s again. The visor reflected back against them harshly but he didn’t look away. Intent on maintaining whatever he could.

“I would have stayed with you forever.”

He sat on the ground, Gabriel’s head in his lap, for hours. Time blurred, just like his vision had, but he remembered waiting. Remembered begging for him to just wake up.

Jack remembered going what felt like ages ago on a hunt to find some kind of spiritual link. He remembered tarot cards and crystals and that old woman with hazy eyes who knew his name somehow. He remembered wanting so badly to believe death wasn’t the end. And, by some miracle, it wasn’t. But he still felt cheated somehow.

“Why didn’t you?” Gabriel asked.

Jack didn’t want him to leave again. Didn’t want to see him vanish like that. It felt like having a part of himself ripped away. Like being pulled apart--just like Gabriel was being, literally. But he didn’t have an answer.

“I thought you were gone…”

Gabriel broke eye contact to look at his hand again. Jack still had it up, bare palm displayed. He stared at it, brow furrowed hard. He didn’t look at Jack when he spoke again.

“I missed you.”

It felt bare, somehow. Jack didn’t know how to respond to that either. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say to it to begin with. He certainly didn’t have to for Gabriel to go on.

“I thought about you all the time. Every day, every…”

Jack finally cleared the lump from his throat. “Me too.”

A silent understanding fell over the room. Jack glanced up at him and Gabriel almost cracked a smile, corners of his lips twitching.

“Come with me,” he said, suddenly, and grabbed Jack by the wrist. He only made it a few steps, jerking Jack along with him, before snatching his hand back, claws curling in toward his palms in fists as he took a few more steps and glanced over his shoulder to see if Jack was following. When Jack grabbed his pack, snapping his mask on, and nodded he started back off in the direction he’d come from. Jack rubbed at his wrist cautiously as they left.

It was a quick walk at least, which was helpful considering their inability to keep a low profile apart, let alone together. Gabriel punched something into a keypad on what looked like an otherwise bare wall and a portion of it dropped down into the floor, door to a safe house opening.

“Nice digs,” Jack remarked absently as he stepped inside, Gabriel filing in after him and shutting the door behind. It was better than that hotel in Cassadaga where he didn’t even get a tv at least. Or the place he had right now; hotels who took obviously fake IDs were never exactly beautiful places.

Gabriel didn’t seem interested in the place. Instead, he stepped past Jack only to whirl around and face him. “Do you know who did this to me?” he paused, looking Jack up and down once. “To us?”

Jack shook his head slowly.

“Did you?”

A firmer, quicker head shake. Gabriel stared at him a long moment, cocked his head again like he had that first night they’d seen each other again. He reached out towards Jack’s visor again and he jerked back a step. The hand retreated.

“Prove it.”

Jack reached up and pulled his mask off again. In the low light it was hard to see Gabriel. To make out even the stark white mask in the dark shape he was. Jack squinted his eyes a little.

“Have I ever lied to you, Gabe?”

Gabe. Gabe, Gabe, Gabe. It rolled off his tongue without a second thought. Gabriel jerked a little, like he’d been shocked, but said nothing. Just cocked his head back in the other direction.

“When you needed to,” he said.

An honest answer. One Jack deserved. He exhaled slowly, nodding, and closed his eyes.

“You have too.”

“I have,” Gabriel said, voice oddly soft. “So. Now what?”

Jack swallowed hard. “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said. Gabriel barked out a bitter laugh.

“Funny, never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, “me neither.”

Gabriel shook his head and sank down to sit on the bed, scrunching his eyes closed in frustration. His shoulders sagged, whole body looking simply… heavy. Jack wanted to reach out--wanted to touch, to hold. But he paused, hand shaking a little for some reason he couldn’t piece together. Gabriel glanced up at him, their eyes meeting, and slowly shook his head.

\--

“Don’t touch me,” he said, but Jack was reaching with a shaky hand again. “Don’t touch me.” He said it again, louder, and Jack retracted his hand. Blessedly, his voice didn’t shake that time. A rare moment of collection since he’d seen the other man’s face again.

“I didn’t leave you,” Jack said, almost too quiet. Gabriel snapped his head up to look at him. “I stayed with you so long.”

Jack looked down, out of focus, at his hands. Gabriel noted for the first time they were covered in burns, old scar tissue creeping up his wrists. They told a story he already knew.

“I wanted to stay forever but I couldn’t,” Jack went on, voice oddly wet. His brow scrunched down, glaring at his hands. “I had to find who did that—who took you from me. I had to make them pay.” His hands clenched into fists, knuckles popping from the action. Gabriel looked at his fists wordlessly.

“Why did I wake up alone?”

Jack looked up, eyes wide and lips parted in a look of shock. Of heartbreak.

“I didn’t know you’d wake up,” he whispered. “You were dead, Gabriel… you were dead.”

He was. That was fair. But the sound of his own anger is still buzzing in Gabriel’s ears. He woke up alone. Jack left him. And he couldn’t move past the thought in his head no matter how hard he tried.

Gabriel reached out a hand toward Jack’s fists. The other man tracked his movements with his eyes, curious, but spoke when they were inches form contact. “Don’t touch me.” So Gabriel pulled his hand back, tucked his fist close to his stomach. And they sat in a long moment of silence like that.

“I needed you,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, “I needed you too.”

“No!” Gabriel snapped, jaw clenching. “I needed you before that! I needed Jack—my Jack! Not the fucking Strike Commander! But you were never there anymore and I—“ Gabriel’s voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. Tried to will away the sting in his eyes.

“Gabe…”

“I just wanted you back for so long and now I… I’m not sure.”

“Please,” Jack’s voice sounded odd—weirdly pitched and soft. “Please let me try again.”

Gabriel rubbed the butts of his hands against his eyes. “I’m tired, Jack. I’m so tired.”

Jack sighed. “Me too.”

And it was just like that. The air settled around them, any raised voices long gone, and set forward towards a new day. The sunlight of morning cracked through the safehouse blinds and Jack sighed.

“Do you want to sleep?” He motioned to the single shitty bed in the room. Gabriel stared at him.

“No.”

Jack sighed again, clearly frustrated, but didn’t press the issue. They both knew what their exhaustion really was and it wouldn’t be solved by rest. So, instead, he thumbed over his shoulder at the door.

“Want to go get breakfast?” he asked.

Gabriel glanced at the window and shrugged.

“Sure.”

-

Gabriel waited outside in the alley while Jack slipped into the diner and bought food. He’d intended on staying in the safehouse but Jack didn’t like the idea. Acted like he thought Gabriel would just up and leave while he was gone. And, really, Gabriel didn’t trust himself not to either. So he waited, standing in the shadows by a garbage dumpster, and wondered why he wasn’t leaving even then.

Jack came out with two bags full of food and they picked their way back to their hiding spot. Gabriel sat on the bed and ate eggs and sausage out of a styrofoam container while Jack inhaled biscuits and gravy in the chair by the window before cracking it open and digging out a cigarette.

“Mind if I smoke?” he asked.

Gabriel shrugged and waved his hand in front of him. Wispy trails of nanites moved back and forth behind it. “Only if you don’t mind that I do,” he said. Jack chuckled--just barely--and lit up his cigarette.

They sat in silence for a long moment, then Jack blew a long stream of smoke out the window and, not looking at him, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Gabriel avoided his gaze. Looked down at his mostly empty box of breakfast and shrugged his shoulders uselessly. “I don’t know,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Jack replied. Gabriel shrugged again. “That’s fine. We can come back to that.”

Gabriel’s turn. He looked up and Jack and asked, “Why did you leave Ana?” Jack visibly flinched.

“She wouldn’t come,” he said, too quiet. Gabriel sighed through his nose. “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

“We can come back to that,” Gabriel said, silencing his mumbling. Jack shrugged.

“Why Talon?” Jack asked.

Gabriel barked out a laugh. “You have to ask?” Jack nodded and Gabriel deflated a little. “It’s… they know what happened,” he said, tone firm. “And they think I don’t know. It’s… it was all I had to go on.”

“So you don’t trust them?” Gabriel shook his head. “You don’t believe in them?” Another shake of his head. Jack let out a short relieved sigh.

“You--” Gabriel stopped himself. ‘You know me.’ They didn’t know each other, not really. But it’s a nice thought. He sighed and said, “You know that’s a stretch.”

Jack sighed and nodded. He took a long drag off his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Your turn,” he said.

Gabriel glanced around the room. His eyes landed on the bedside table, half empty bottle of whiskey on it. He nodded toward it. “How long have you been drinking?”

“Since I healed up,” Jack replied, too casually.

“Jack…”

“I dreamt of your face,” Jack cut him off, still looking out the window. “I had to do something to sleep right.”

Gabriel scooted over the bed and put his legs over the side of the bed closer to Jack. He didn’t look up. Not even as Gabriel eased himself off the bed and stepped over to stand next to his chair.

“Jack.”

“I just wanted peace,” Jack mumbled, propping his chin on his fist. “Even if it was temporary.”

“It’s not the way,” Gabriel replied. Jack shrugged at him.

“It’s all I’ve got right now.”

Gabriel sighed but let it drop. He reached out, very cautiously, and touched his other arm on the chair. Jack flinched, like he’d been shocked, and he pulled his hand back. It almost felt like it to him, too… But he gradually lowered his hand back down to the arm rest, staring at it instead of looking at Gabriel.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack snorted. “For what?” he asked.

“For haunting you,” Gabriel replied. Jack glanced up at him and he forced a smile. “I always threatened to. Never thought it’d actually happen.”

Jack just shook his head. “I deserved it,” he said, “I left you. I failed everyone. I…”

Cautiously, Gabriel reached down and touched his arm again. This time, it still felt like the same charge but Jack didn’t pull away. So Gabriel didn’t either. Slowly, the sensation died down.

“We got dealt a shitty hand, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jack heaved a sigh and finally looked up at him. He was smiling but there was something wet about his eyes. A lingering sadness he couldn’t hide. “Dead Man’s Hand, I’d say.”

Gabriel just chuckled. “Could have won if someone didn’t shoot us in the back?”

Jack nodded. “Exactly,” he said, “what kind of bullshit is that?”

Slowly, Gabriel ran his knuckles up and down Jack’s arm a few times. Jack looked down to watch him and Gabriel swore he saw a faint smile cross his face.

“Our kind of bullshit,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded again, “that’s fair.”

-

When Jack asked Gabriel to leave with him, he didn’t question it. He probably should have, admittedly, but something in him told him to just leave it be. He was given a list of destinations--Arizona, Nevada, California, and back. And he was given a simple offer.

“It’ll give us something to do while we… talk.”

The air still felt heavy around them. The whole world felt heavy. Maybe a little movement would keep the winds going around them. He could only hope. So, Gabriel agreed. Dropped a message to Sombra, telling her he was going dark unless she had an emergency, and simply agreed to the trip.

He didn’t know if he could still trust Jack. But he did anyway. Maybe not knowing things was easier. After all, Gabriel didn’t ask where Jack got the money for a car, or the whiskey bottle on the bedside table, or any of the casual clothing he dropped on the bed for him to sort through the morning they left. Most of it smelled like cigarettes but that was probably due to the ones Jack was sucking down the whole time. He dressed in as much as possible, given the ride ahead. Hoodie, sweats, sneakers, and... 

“You found me a beanie?” he asked, teasing, as he held up the article of clothing.

Across the room, leaning out the open window with his cigarette, Jack waved him off dismissively. “You get cold,” he said simply.

Gabriel didn’t bother mentioning they were going to be driving through the desert in summer for days. He just pulled it on and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m not really used to street clothing,” he remarked, tugging at the front of the hoodie. It had a few holes in the seams, obviously second hand, but there weren’t any burns or stains. It was nicer than he expected, really, given his lack of budget.

“You just wear that get up all the time?” Jack asked, deadpan.

“Not when I’m naked,” Gabriel shot back, not skipping a beat. Jack laughed, choking a little on his last drag off his cigarette, and the whole room felt strangely light for a moment. It dipped back down easily when Gabriel sighed and asked, “Where are we going first?”

“Arizona first,” Jack said, too quickly.

“Yes,” Gabriel replied, “I know. But where are we going in Arizona, Jack?”

“Sedona.”

Gabriel cocked a brow at him. Jack put his cigarette out on the brick outside the window and leaned back in, yanking it closed. He pointedly avoided eye contact as he went about shoveling the remaining clothing on the bed back into the bag he’d brought it in. Gabriel cleared his throat and he finally paused and glanced at him.

“This… sounds crazy,” Jack said slowly, “but I’m just following some advice that hasn’t failed me yet.”

“Whose advice?”

Jack, still not looking at him, cracked a kink in his neck. Gabriel just waited, patience still there but thin, and he finally sighed and looked at him.

“I spoke to a… spiritual advisor. In Florida.”

Gabriel coughed. “A psychic?” he asked, disbelieving. Jack sighed.

“I don’t like that word.”

“What do you call her, then?”

“Her name?” Jack offered, yanking a ball cap on and slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Come on, we need to get on the road anyway. We can talk about my superstitions on the way.”

Pointedly, Gabriel watched Jack pack up and step outside as he locked the safehouse behind them. Watched him skip a step and kick a penny out of the way down the path. Really, maybe the medium thing shouldn’t come as such a surprise. He couldn’t imagine Jack any other way. The man swore the town he grew up in was haunted.

And maybe feeling the vortexes in Arizona would be nice.

The weather certainly suited him. Gabriel waited in the car while Jack checked out and flicked through radio stations. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Landed on a news talk show about the time Jack came out and left it there, volume bumped down, while they drove off. They were on the highway, AC blasting, when Jack spoke again.

“It was just… the only thing I felt like got me close to you again.”

That stung more than he expected. Gabriel glanced over at him but Jack kept his eyes forward on the road. He drummed his fingers on the wheel in the silence, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Gabriel watched his body language for a moment before responding.

“What card did you get?” he asked.

Jack, still not looking at him, broke into a smile. “Death,” he said. Gabriel smiled too.

-

They stopped about 5 hours in to stretch and piss. Gabriel paced the parking lot while Jack slipped inside to buy lunch and mulled over the silence that had taken over most of their trip. For the purpose of the whole thing of sticking together being talking they really hadn’t done much. He’d resolved to make use of their trip to Sedona when Jack came out with a paper sack full of burgers and fries and beckoned him to return to the car. (At least he didn’t simply act like he’d leave without him this time, he mused absently.)

Jack dropped the bag in his lap and pulled a cigarette pack out of his shirt pocket when they were finally in the car, tapping it on the steering wheel while he started the car and headed back out onto the highway. Gabriel ignored the puff of smoke in the cab before Jack cracked the window again while he dug through the bag and found a burger. He hesitated a moment after unwrapping the first one, glancing at Jack’s preoccupied hands on the wheel, but then simply stuffed half of the thing in his mouth and set the bag on the console between them.

They got nearly to Flagstaff before Gabriel spoke up. Something about the mood after he’d eaten, radio chattering softly in the background, felt wrong to disrupt. They’d had the first moment of peace since the conversation about tarot cards. He didn’t want to ruin it.

But it wasn’t really anything to be ruined, was it? They were stuck in a hole and the only way out was through their issues. But it was a mystery how to navigate any of this. Gabriel, admittedly, didn’t expect to ever have to do so.

“Jack,” he started, then bit his lip. Jack didn’t look away from the road or even really acknowledge he’d heard him. He tried again. “So, Jack…”

“What?”

He didn’t sound interested in talking. Or really being there at all. Gabriel wondered what the point of all this was if he didn’t. Instead, he pressed onward.

“Where do we start?”

Jack shrugged, still not looking at him. “You tell me,” he said, tone more biting than Gabriel was expecting. “Been acting like I’m holding you captive the whole damn trip. Not like your ass can’t slip through the cracks under the door any second you want to. But here you are, still here, acting like it’s some kind of inconvenience to even sit in silence.” He knocked the ash off his cigarette out the window and took another draw before continuing. “I figured, since you said you didn’t want to talk about what started all this shit, I’d wait for you.”

Gabriel snapped his mouth shut and jerked his face away, glaring out the window. Something in his chest boiled but he didn’t say anything.

“What’s the fucking point of this?” he asked.

Jack blew another draw of smoke out the window. “I’m going to Sedona,” he said, “just like Estelle told me. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Sedona isn’t going to fix shit, Jack,” Gabriel snapped before he could stop himself. Either way, Jack seemed unphased. Just shrugged and knocked more ashes off his cigarette.

“Not with that attitude.”

Gabriel glared out the window harder, brow furrowed, and fought the urge to say anything else. There was no point. Possibly in more ways than one.

Surprisingly, Jack cleared his throat. But instead of any sort of apology, he just asked, “Can you change the shit on the radio? I’m sick of talk shows.”

Sighing, Gabriel flicked the station over to some old rock music and cranked the volume so he didn’t have to hear Jack thank him.

\--

Sedona wasn’t crowded. Probably the time of year, judging from the lingering chill in the air when they arrived. Jack got out of the car first and left Gabriel to follow as he headed off across the nearly-empty parking lot. Gabriel did follow, at least, despite his anger earlier. But he didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry. Not like Jack was.

Jack headed up the rock path without hesitation until he realized he’d gained some elevation and Gabriel wasn’t nearly as close behind as he’d hoped. When he checked back he found the other man carefully picking his way up the path. His movements were slow, careful. Like he was trying to walk for the first time in a long time. Something dawned on him, watching him.

“Your knee still bad?” he asked.

“Being a sentient swarm of bees doesn’t really get rid of joint damage in this form, no,” Gabriel shot back, eyes on the path rather than Jack.

“How do you get around so fast other times?”

Gabriel cut his eyes up to glare at him. “I don’t usually have to walk this much,” he replied.

Oh. Right. Usually he moved in wraith form. Could probably be to the top of the path ages before Jack was. But there were people around and they were at least attempting to keep a low profile. So Jack simply turned back around and kept walking up the path.

Gabriel followed, at least, but made no effort to increase his pace. Jack reached the top of the path before he did and was greeted with, well, nothing. Just nothing at all but flat rock and the stretching horizon beyond it. He frowned, looking around, and still felt as though he had gained nothing but a little sweat for coming there. What was he supposed to find? What was any of this for?

‘“So,” Gabriel’s voice came behind him, finally joining him, “What spiritual advice have you found here?” He sounded annoyed, likely from the climb. Something about the question made Jack’s gut kick even harder over the lack of anything around them. Slowly, he turned to the other man and offered his hands.

“Come here.”

Gabriel moved toward him. Cautiously set his hands in Jack’s palms. Jack closed his eyes and breathed slowly, heard Gabriel slowly mimic him. For a brief second, the whole world was quiet. Then… nothing. Nothing happened.

“What’s this supposed to do?” Gabriel asked.

Jack opened his eyes and frowned at him. “I don’t know.”

Gabriel started at him. “You don’t know?” He repeated, clearly frustrated, and snatched his hand back. Jack shrugged and turned away from him. This only seemed to annoy him more. “You took me out of fucking Mexico for this? Some flat rock in the middle of fucking nowhere? I could have found you one of those there!”

Jack glared out at the horizon. “You wanted me to leave when I found you,” he replied, more cutting than he’d actually intended. He heard Gabriel shift, turning on his heels and moving back toward the trail. “Why can’t we just talk anymore, Gabriel?” The footsteps stopped short. When he turned, Gabriel was staring at him.

“”You want to talk?” He asked, face hardening into a glare. “You want to talk?” Jack nodded. “Then fucking act like it,” Gabriel spat, turning away again and heading back down the trail without another word.

Jack watched him until he reached the car and angrily tried the door before sitting on the hood. Then, hesitantly, he headed back down himself. When he got in the car, they drove to their next hotel in silence the whole way. Gabriel went to sleep the second they got in their room. Jack didn’t push the issue of anything else.

But he did, however, make sure to leave some pizza aside for Gabriel in the hotel fridge before stepping out onto the balcony to smoke. When he got back in it was gone and Gabriel had laid back down. He counted it as a victory anyway.

-

They were in Nevada before they had a solid conversation. The air in the car was tight, the air in the hotel tighter, but Gabriel excused himself to the bathroom and filled the tub while Jack made a few phone calls. He shamelessly listened from the bathroom, leaning back in the tub and soaking the soreness out of his knees.

“What does that mean?” Jack asked the phone. Gabriel had gathered, or possibly just assumed, that Jack was speaking to the woman he’d met in Florida. Another tarot reading. Gabriel would have felt annoyed if he had any energy left to spare. “I don’t understand,” Jack was saying, clearly exhausted. “Nothing’s changing.”

He thanked her and hung up not long after, sighing heavily and getting up from the desk chair he’d plopped down in. Gabriel waited until he heard the door close, Jack having stepped outside onto the balcony for a smoke break, before he got out of the tub and dried off, dressing and making a beeline for his bed in the room.

No such luck, however, because Jack stepped back inside before he’d even made it across the room to climb into bed and feign sleep. They made eye contact and for a brief moment Gabriel wondered if he could simply continue on his path and not be bothered. Then, Jack spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

It was so abrupt and jarring, Gabriel stopped dead. Just stared at him, eyes narrowed.

“We said later. And it’s later. You have to talk. We have to talk.”

“I don’t have to say shit to you, asshole.”

Jack ducked his head a little. “That’s… true.”

Silence settled on the room, heavy enough to crush them. Then, Jack exhaled loudly out his nose. Stood up straight, stretched his arms out in front of him, and cleared his throat. Gabriel looked over at him, apprehensive, and Jack shook his head.

“I left Ana because I let myself forget what you taught me,” Jack said slowly. “And it’s fucking haunted me. But I made that call because I thought it was the right one. Because for some shitty ass reason I really, truly thought that I was doing what I was supposed to.”

Gabriel frowned. “You can see why I jumped to being abandoned.” Jack nodded. “How did you let them forget who we are? How did it… get this bad?”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t know.”

Silence drifted over them again. Then, Gabriel sighed. Watched wisps of smoke float up toward the ceiling with his breath. “I didn’t tell you I was sick because there was too much else going on,” he said, “Figured I could just… take care of that one thing myself.”

Jack met his gaze, eyes narrowed. “You know--you know I would have dropped everything for you, why would you--?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Gabriel said, voice oddly soft. Jack snapped his mouth shut. “I didn’t want anything important to get pushed aside for me.”

“You were always the most important thing to me,” Jack replied. Gabriel met his gaze again, hesitant, and then dipped his eyes toward the floor.

“When did you start drinking, Jack?”

Jack coughed awkwardly into his fist. Gabriel had watched him finish two bottles of bourbon since their trip started. It was more excessive than even he’d been expecting. There was no maintained buzz, Jack didn’t drink when he was driving. But he couldn’t seem to sleep without getting himself to black out.

“First it was just… one, two drinks,” Jack began slowly. “Take the edge off. Every night after work. After getting out of all those fucking meetings and press conferences. After going home and knowing I had an empty bed for at least a week.” He picked at his fingernails, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes. “But it… it stopped working over time. So I drank more. And more. This is the worst it’s been but…” Jack cleared his throat roughly and finally met Gabriel’s gaze again. “It started a long time ago.”

“I know,” Gabriel said quietly. “But thank you for… saying that.”

Jack chewed his lower lip and looked down at his fingernails again. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t know.” Honesty was all Gabriel had. “I still don’t know, fully…” He held a hand up, twisting it in the air and letting smoke flow off his fingertips. “I’m dead, I guess.”

“Death, come to find me.” Jack said it with a dark chuckle. Gabriel blinked at him. “It’s just… I thought…”

“You thought I was going to kill you?” Gabriel asked.

Jack shook his head. “I thought I was already dead and… time was finally up.”

Something felt calmer around them. Gabriel scrubbed a hand over his face. Scratched at his chin, thinking, and finally asked, “Were you ready to die that night?”

“I’ve been ready to die since I found you already gone,” Jack’s answer came too quick. Gabriel cringed, closing his eyes. “I think… I’m still ready.”

“Jack--”

“I don’t know how to be alright.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. It felt too close to home, somehow. He didn’t know how to have direction anymore. All it was was revenge. And while he still wanted it… Jack was alive. And he didn’t know what to do with that. How did they move forward from this?

“I don’t know how it got this bad,” Jack said, almost too quiet.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said abruptly.

“Doesn’t?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Nope, doesn’t mean shit. We can’t keep looking back if we want to move forward.” Gabriel gestured at the room around them. “Let change happen. Come what may.”

Jack’s lips quirked in a smile. Then, he took a breath and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Jack--”

Jack held a hand up, silencing Gabriel, and he sighed but complied, pursing his lips to keep from blurting out again. He just found a particularly interesting patch of carpet to study instead. The whole place was furnished like it hadn’t seen an update since before Gabriel was born.

“I don’t say I’m sorry enough,” Jack said quietly, “it’s a character flaw. I don’t… I don’t really know how. So when I know I fucked up, I just avoid the issue.” Gabriel nodded but said nothing. “I asked you to come with me so we could shake off the bad between us. But it keeps lingering because I keep trying to pretend it isn’t there.”

“That’s part of what got us here in the first place,” Gabriel replied.

“It is. And there’s no way we can get out of this without stopping it.”

“Your psychic tell you that?” Gabriel asked. Jack actually managed to laugh at that one.

“Yes and no. Listen, that’s not… important. What is is that you…” He paused, frowning a little, then shook his head. “What is important is that knowing you’re alive is the best fucking thing to ever happen to me and I can’t even act like it. And I’m sorry.”

Gabriel finally looked at him and felt his throat clench a little. Jack looked exhausted, something he hadn’t noticed earlier that evening. Hours of driving could take their toll with enough stress outside it. And Jack was painfully focused on where ever they were headed to next. Slowly, he eased himself onto the other bed in the silence that fell over them.

“I’ve spent so long mad at you I… don’t know how to stop,” Gabriel said, eyes back on the carpet. He didn’t know, truly. He’d believed for so long he’d woken up alone because Jack was gone. And because he’d left him, betrayed him, not fought hard enough for him. And it stung so badly he couldn’t get past it. Couldn’t think clearly. “I want to stop.”

“Breathe in,” Jack said. Gabriel did. They stayed silent for a moment, Gabriel holding his breath. “Breathe out,” Jack said. And he did with a heavy sigh.

Something about it made him feel lighter. He glanced over at Jack. “Do you even still love me? Is there even a point to all this if you… if you don’t feel like I do anymore?”

Jack shook his head and gave a sad smile. “Gabe,” he said, “not even death could stop me from loving you. Not a damn thing. If there’s one thing I will always know about myself it’s that… you’re all I want.”

Slowly, cautiously, Gabriel eased across the room to stand in front of him. Jack looked up at him curiously. “Always?” he asked.

“I said it,” Jack said simply. “And I meant it.”

Something clenched in Gabriel’s chest. Cautiously, he raised a hand and reached out to Jack. Jack didn’t move away, just watched his hand curiously. If the first time they’d touched again was a spark,this was more of a tingle. Still, it was enough to have Jack pulling away nervously when Gabriel’s knuckles brushed against his arm. And yet he still looked at him, almost expectantly, when the wraith didn’t reach out again.

“Is this alright?” he asked. “Is this… allowed?”

To touch would be to make it real again. They’d know affection again, the true feeling of it, and it would be addicting instantly. It felt like so long since anything kind or gentle had been done to them.

Jack nodded. Then, he reached out and took Gabriel’s hand. He pulled it close, the wispy fingers curling around his, and pressed the back of it to his cheek. Warm. He was always so warm. It just felt more punctuated now, with how cold Gabriel’s own body always was. Shifting, Gabriel cupped Jack’s cheek with his palm. The other man leaned into it heavily. Like he’d never felt anything better in his life. Like he’d been somehow blessed. Like it was the most soothing sensation he’d ever known. Gabriel smiled down at him, warmth radiating through him, and rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone gently.

Slowly, painfully so, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against the top of Jack’s head. For just a moment, Jack froze. Then, very slowly, he wrapped an arm around Gabriel’s waist and pulled him in. Just close enough to press his face against his torso, releasing Gabriel’s other hand and leaving him to run his fingers through his white hair. The response Gabriel got for doing so was a soft grumble, almost like a purr, and Jack’s face pressed against his shirt.

Minutes ticked by. They could have stayed that way for hours if Gabriel’s knees didn’t start to ache. Instead, they lingered for as long as possible before Gabriel picked a foot up off the ground, bending his knee, and Jack seemed to catch on. He pulled Gabriel sideways, flopping backwards onto the bed as he did, and they both ended up tucked close together on their sides.

“You're really real…” Jack whispered, face tucked up under Gabriel’s chin now. Gabriel smiled and pressed his nose into Jack’s hair. “We’re real.”

“Yeah,” he said, “really real.”

As real as he’d felt in years. As real as he possibly had ever felt before and would ever feel again. Suddenly everything was so in focus and within reach. He felt something he thought was long gone stir in his chest. Jack pressed closer, warm limbs wrapping around him, and Gabriel exhaled softly.

“I thought I’d die never feeling this again…” Jack said, voice barely above a whisper.

Gabriel coiled closer to him, arms pressing his face against his chest, and tried not to think about how he’d assumed the same thing. About how he’d thought he’d never know peace again. And about how foolish it felt now, finally having it back, to think he could ever live without this in his life.

Neither of them wanted more than this. There was no need to fuck or even kiss. This was fine. The unbearable closeness of just breathing together. Skin pressed together where it could be, body heat mixing, and eyelids heavy as they laid there. Jack absently traced shapes on the small patch of Gabriel’s back where his shirt had ridden up. Gabriel combed his fingers through Jack’s hair over and over and over, following the lines he’d raked through before. And they just… were. For the first time in so long. They just let themselves be. And that was enough.

-

California was a big drive, but Big Sur smelled like trees and salt water, the whole thing was so cleansing it was worth it. For the first time in the trip, Gabriel was excited about the prospect of going there. He’d missed California more than he’d ever admit over the years. Still, he contained himself while they drove toward the spot on Jack’s strange list. When they reached the area, Jack parked and they got out, gravel crunching under their feet as they walked toward the sound of the ocean. As the sound got louder, Gabriel felt Jack’s hand find his and slowly wind their fingers together. He didn’t pull away. Just squeezed at the hand in his and stepped over a fallen limb before finally clearing the trees and stepping out onto a small rock outcropping above the waves. The Pacific Ocean greeted him with a misting of salt water from the crashing below and he felt Jack squeeze just a little tighter at his hand.

“Think this got rid of any ‘bad energies’?” Jack asked, eyes off toward the distant waves.

Gabriel laughed and nudged his side. “Got rid of a few things we didn’t need,” he said, “but if you’ve got any small objects to misplace this is a good spot.”

Jack reached for his sunglasses in his shirt pocket with his free hand and gave a nervous chuckle. The fact he was laughing again felt good—felt right. Gabriel leaned against his shoulder and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around them. He felt Jack press his lips against the top of his head and smiled.

“Where do we go from here?” Jack asked. A question with multiple levels and endless answers to go over. Gabriel knew they couldn’t avoid it anymore.

“To tomorrow,” he said simply. And that seemed to work well enough for Jack.

“Wanna hang around here a while?” he asked. “My list is up so… I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.”

Gabriel gave a soft chuckle. “Sounds nice.”

They parted ways in California a little under a week later, having spent the whole time simply being close--being allowed that moment of peace they knew they might never see again. Gabriel’s comm pinged him one morning, signaling something they knew was coming, and when he wriggled out of Jack’s arms and sat up on the side of the bed to see he found a message from Sombra. It said, simply, ‘Time’s Up’. He had work to do and people were starting to miss him. It had been too hard to get in with Talon in the first place to give up his project now. So, he had to go.

“I’ll be in touch,” he promised for the eighth time that morning. Jack still didn’t look any more convinced since the first. It was hard to blame him. He really thought this could still be a dream.

Gabriel wondered too, sometimes.

“You don’t know that.”

“I want that,” Gabriel insisted, “so I know that.”

Jack didn’t look at him, just rummaged in his coat pocket for his lighter. Gabriel reached out and stopped him with a hand on his elbow. They both froze for a moment.

“Jack…”

“We’re no good alone, Gabe. You make me my best self. Without you I’m just…” He didn’t need to say. They’d been talking about the negative language for a while. At least Gabriel knew he was trying to stop.

“We’re not alone anymore,” Gabriel insisted. He leaned closer, putting himself in Jack’s space, and sought his gaze. After a moment of hesitation, Jack met it. His eyes were pale… Gabriel had noticed how often he wore his glasses now but he’d almost assumed it was just for disguise purposes until now.

Jack’s hand reached up and cupped his cheek and Gabriel leaned into it. Turned his head and nuzzled against his palm, pressing his lips to the calloused skin. “We’re not alone now,” he repeated.

“Let me kiss you?” Jack asked. His other hand rested gently on the side of Gabriel’s neck. Gabriel cut his eyes to look at him. “Please?”

Through all this they hadn’t really kissed. Holding each other had been as far as it had gotten, as far as they dared go. Any further made them more real, and more desperate. The feelings they’d missed most were ones they avoided now. Ones they feared.

“If you kiss me now, I’ll want another,” Gabriel warned.

Jack let out a faint laugh. “That’s what I’m aiming for,” he said, “so you’ll really come back.”

“That’s not fair…”

Jack laughed and leaned in closer, almost too close. Tried again. “Please?”

“Just one.”

Their lips met gently, tentatively. Jack’s other hand slid around to cup the back of Gabriel’s head and Gabriel grabbed Jack’s coat collar, pulling him closer. He was the one to deepen the kiss, desperate for more once he got a taste. Jack tasted like toothpaste, not cigarettes or whiskey, and for a brief moment it almost felt like they were young and without pain and worries there. Gabriel pushed in closer, up on the pads of his feet to try and force some height over Jack he didn’t have, and kissed him harder. When they finally broke it was begrudgingly, desperate for air, and Gabriel pressed their foreheads together while they both panted.

”We’re not alone anymore,” he whispered, running his hands up over Jack’s shoulders and neck. “We’re not.”

Jack nodded, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s waist, and closed his eyes. “We’re not,” he repeated. “We’re not…”

They kissed again before Gabriel left. After he packed and slipped out the door to make some calls on a burner phone and get his departure set up. This time, Jack bit his lip and grumbled happily in the back of his throat when allowed to slide their tongues together. That one wasn’t fair. That one was the first time in years to get Gabriel’s blood hot. And it didn’t help that Jack kept pressing his thumbs into his hips the whole time, rubbing at the muscles there.

But they were a long way from that. And Gabriel had to go anyway. So he pressed their foreheads together one more time before grabbing his bag and heading out the door. Jack watched him round the corner then pulled the hotel door shut again with a soft click.

When he got to the parking lot, Sombra was waiting. She pretended not to notice the slight wetness to his eyes as Gabriel climbed in the passenger's seat and told her to drive. Maybe she wasn’t a half bad friend after all.

-

They met again in Mexico. It wasn’t on purpose, in particular, but perhaps the pull never really left them. Gabriel slipped under the door of Jack’s hotel room well after midnight and woke up with Jack’s lips on his neck, babbling sleepily about how happy he made him. Jack returned the favor after a few more hours of sleep with Gabriel curled up next to him. Because he did love him, so much. Even if 2am wake up calls weren’t exactly the ideal.

They only got a stolen moment, a day was a gift they didn’t expect. But they’d take all they could get at this point. The road trip wasn’t something they saw themselves being able to replicate for some time, if ever again, but it was what it was.

“Every time I see you again it’s like the first and the last,” Jack said, watching Gabriel’s face over a mug of coffee after breakfast. Gabriel tossed him a grin.

“I told you that you’d make me want more if you kissed me back there,” he said. Jack’s face cracked into a smile and Gabriel eased closer, slipping his head under his arm and tossing one leg over Jack’s thighs. Jack, balancing his coffee cup briefly before setting it on the nightstand, eventually leaned his head over to rest against Gabriel’s chest.

Somehow, they fell right back into how it had been in California. Safe. Simple. Welcome. The air still had things to clear but the whole thing felt lighter… more possible.

Before they parted ways, Gabriel snatched the hoodie Jack left on one of the chairs before he could protest, yanking it over his head and breathing in the smell of Jack’s cologne clinging to it. Jack watched him with a faint smile and reached over to grab Gabriel’s off the floor by the bed in retaliation.

“Don’t make it smell like cigarettes,” Gabriel warned. Jack laughed.

“Me? Never.”

They wouldn’t get to see each other after tomorrow for months, possibly more. But they knew they had a job. Knew there were end goals. And even if it hurt, they made the best of the small amount of time they did have. Spent half their remaining day in bed, mostly just holding each other. A comfortable closeness they’d been lacking for so long. Before they parted, something big underway from the comms chatter they were hacked into, Jack stopped Gabriel in the doorway with a needy kiss. When they parted, he pressed a card into his hand.

“Death,” he mumbled, holding the tarot card up to see better.

“It means change,” Jack said simply, kneading at Gabriel’s hip gently. “Sometimes change is good, apparently.” Their eyes met and Jack smiled, wrinkles showing at the corners. “I’m going to believe everything that changes has the high probability of being good after this.”

Gabriel laughed and leaned in, kissing Jack’s temple. He tucked the card into the inner pocket of his coat, patting at it, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Change is never bad,” he said, “how you meet it is what makes it difficult.”

“Now that I have you back, I think I can face anything better than I could alone. Funny, huh?”

“No,” Gabriel said, laughing in spite of himself. “I don’t want us to be alone again.”

Jack shook his head and placed a hand over Gabriel’s chest, pressing over where he’d tucked the tarot card. “We’re not,” he said, “if you’re out there, I’m never alone. So just… try not to take the card literally?”

“But how can I not? I’m Death, after all,” Gabriel broke into a grin. “Death, come to take you away for good, Jack Morrison.” He leaned in closer, feigning a dangerous scowl, and Jack swatted his face away. When he leaned back in, expression soft, the other man cupped his jaw and kissed him again. Slow, lingering, consuming somehow.

When they parted, panting and Gabriel breathing out wisps of smoke, Jack chuckled. “If this is what death is like, I don’t know why I ever bothered to be alive.”

Gabriel laughed. “Come to embrace it now, have you?”

Jack laughed too, eyes twinkling. “Whenever I can,” he said, and did just that.

If Estelle could have seen this coming, she would have been proud.


End file.
